“Roger, DJ. Fish—”
“What the hell are we waiting for?” I demanded, pulling on Dobson’s elbow. “We need to get out there and help them!”
Dobson glanced at the view screen one last time, and then nodded.
“I’ll go,” he said after taking in a deep breath. He grabbed his rifle and proceeded toward the rear of the troop compartment.
I grabbed my own rifle, but the Major shoved me into a seat.
“No!” he said, shaking his head. “Stay here. Keep an eye out.”
“I’ll come,” Daniel said, grabbing his pistol.
Dobson nodded.
“Are you kidding me?” I growled. “You need me!”
“We need you alive!” Dobson retorted.
He walked up to the rear hatch and hit the emergency release. The door sprung open. Coming up behind the Stryker were two scabs. One was armed with spears, the other had a spade sharpened into a large, flat arrow.
Dobson raised his rifle, emptying his magazine at the duo. One collapsed, his spears bouncing off the asphalt as he fell. The other scab closed the distance as Dobson reloaded.
Orders or not, there was no way I was going to let that scab get any closer. It was ten feet away when I leaned out of the hatch and sent five rounds into the creature. One hit home on the bridge of its nose. Its head snapped back and he rolled to the ground.
Daniel snaked around me and jumped out of the Stryker, darting around the back.
“Get inside!” Dobson hissed as he pushed me back and followed Daniel to the wreckage of the F350.
Boomer saw the open hatch and jumped out before I could stop him.
I called to him, commanding him to get back in. He halted, but ignored my order, whining anxiously. Adrenaline seemed to have made him impervious to the pain in his leg. I knew he wanted into the fight and I wanted to save Jenna, so I gritted my teeth and jumped from the Stryker. With Boomer at my side I jogged to the truck.
The F350 lay on its passenger side trapping Jenna in the truck. Reggie was trying to lift the door on the driver side, but couldn’t get it open more than a foot.
Three scabs from the south were running toward the truck as Daniel ran around to the front and tried to break the windshield.
Pittman jumped off Big Red armed with a SAW. He began to spray bullets into the woods. Scabs screeched in rage as the light machinegun split the morning air.
Pittman’s assault on the woods to the north gave Fish the opening to crawl out of the turret and take cover behind it. He aimed with his .308 rifle at the scabs assaulting the F350, but before he could fire, DJ revved Big Red’s engine and the tires spun, grabbing hold of the asphalt. The fire truck flexed and began to push the smoldering trailer toward the embankment.
I ran forward, raising my rifle at one of the approaching scabs from the south. I shot at his legs, hoping to slow him down. With both me and my target moving, a clean head shot was all but impossible.
Bullets riddled around him, one hit him in the thigh spraying blood from the wound. Another bullet hit his ankle, sending him to the ground, but he was up and running again as I switched targets and fired.
Dobson reached the F350 and mounted the vehicle. He shot his M4 with one hand as the other held the door open for Reggie to climb out. His accuracy was limited with the move but he still managed to pepper one of the scabs in the chest.
Just as I made it to the wreckage of the F350, I saw the top hatch of the CDC bus open and Sheriff Green begin to climb out. He was holding his own M4 rifle and aiming it north toward the woodline. He joined Pittman and released a barrage of lead into the trees and smoke.
It was an uncoordinated cluster fuck. We had no plan and no radio communication, just a desperate attempt to save Jenna and Reggie.
I took up position near the rear of the F350. The scabs were mere feet away when I emptied my magazine into the closest one. He stumbled and I was almost done reloading before he hit the ground.
Another scab soared through the air with a metal shard aimed at my chest.
Before I could release the bolt, Boomer charged, intercepting the scab, knocking him off course and into the underbelly of the truck, slamming them both into the transmission. Boomer jumped from the scab as the creature rolled over. Before it had a chance to attack I shot it twice in the back of the head.
I looked up as the scab Dobson had wounded threw a spear. It hit Reggie just below the sternum sending his small frame between the wrecked truck and the CDC bus. Dobson unloaded, putting the scab down in seconds.
I kept my aim on the open fields to the south as I rounded the opposite side of the truck. No movement was coming from that direction. Pittman was sidestepping toward the F350, scanning the tree line, but no longer firing.
The sound of gunshots ceased all together. The remaining scabs had retreated or were hiding. Smoke billowed from the north as small fires grew in the dry brush. If there were still scabs at the edge of the forest, they could easily hide themselves in the smog.
I looked up and saw Sheriff Green standing on top of the CDC bus, covering the woods. I turned to the front of the truck. Daniel was kicking in the windshield of the F350. Jenna was only semi-conscious, dangling from her seat belt.
Pittman shoved Daniel aside and gave the windshield one good thrust from his massive boot. It caved inward as the rest of the glass spider webbed. He reached down and pulled the windshield out and tossed it on the ground.
“Hey guys, we have to get moving!!” Nate called from atop the CDC bus, staring down at us. “Karina is manning the drone. She says their reinforcements are almost here.”
Daniel grabbed Jenna from the truck. Blood matted the side of her hair. She was incoherent and moving sluggishly.
“Reggie!” Daniel bellowed as he dragged Jenna between the truck and the CDC bus. “Check on Reggie!”
I looked down to see the thin man grasping the spear. He was laying on his side, writhing around on the asphalt. Dark stains were quickly spreading through his flannel shirt and his breath was coming in short spurts.
Fish screamed from the top of Big Red. “Sheriff!”
I looked up to see Sheriff Green flying through the air with a scab latched to his back. They hit Dobson, who was still standing on the driver side of the F350. The three fell on the opposite side of the truck, out of my line of sight.
Shrieks of rage were coming from the smoldering woods as the scabs used the cover of the smoke to move in closer to us.
I was blind to them, trapped between the wrecked F350 and the CDC bus.
Fish jumped off the fire engine as it continued to push forward on the trailer. DJ had almost completed his task, and the trailer was slowly dipping down the embankment toward the canal. There was a wrenching sound as Big Red’s shovel ripped from the fire truck and slid into the canal with the semi-trailer.
A scream came from inside the CDC bus. Sheriff Green had left the top hatch open and a scab had slinked its way in.
I flicked on my radio. “Enrique, bring the Stryker up!” I yelled into the transmitter while moving to cover Daniel.
“Help them!” Daniel said, straining as he half dragged Jenna toward the Stryker. “I have her!”
Two loud bangs came from within the CDC bus.
“Pittman!” Fish called in mid sprint. “Help Dobson! I’ll check the bus!”
I took one last glance at Daniel as he moved Jenna to safety. I knew it would only be moments before the medic would get Jenna inside the Stryker.
Boomer and I darted around the F350 to aid the Major and Sheriff.
I saw Nate on the road. He was trying to move, but he was severely injured. His face was covered with blood and specks of black rock from the asphalt.
Dobson was facing off with a young female scab. She had two bullet holes in her abdomen, but it wasn’t slowing her down. She wielded a poorly crafted axe.
Dobson went for his sidearm but before he could get a grip she swung her axe, chopping into his bicep. Dobson cried out in pain, his arm going
limp.
Pittman dashed past me wielding the SAW like a bat, smashing the side of the scab’s head and rocketing her to the ground. She tried to lift herself up, but Pitman drove his boot down on her neck. There was an audible crack of both her vertebrae and jaw as he drove his full weight onto her. She shuddered and went still.
Boomer started barking at the end of the truck. I heard Daniel curse as he let loose a barrage of shots from his suppressed pistol.
The three of us sprinted toward the commotion just as the Stryker came to a stop behind the F350. We came to a halt between the vehicles. Near the rear of the CDC bus stood Tikel. One of his chains was spinning, his face contorted in rage as he focused on Daniel. Jenna was on the ground, unmoving and Daniel had put himself between her and Tikel.
Daniel was trying to reload his gun when Tikel shrieked a war cry and swung the weighted chain at the medic. The fist sized steel weight on the end of the chain slammed into Daniel’s neck with a sickening thud. Daniel was slammed to the side and he flopped to the ground convulsing.
Pittman yanked his handgun out as I raised my rifle. We opened fire at the same time. Tikel jumped to the side using his massive bulk to absorb the rounds. Patches of blood peppered his body as he stumbled backwards.
Tikel recovered and swung the other chain toward us at an arc. I ducked and Pittman pushed Dobson out of the way, taking a glancing blow to his arm.
I snatched my 9mm Glock from its holster and began to shoot again, hitting Tikel half dozen times. But the bullets seemed to annoy more than hurt the Ogre.
Tikel dove at me, holding the end of the bladed chain like a dagger. I rolled away, the blade barely missing my scalp. Boomer tore at Tikel’s thigh but the beast was unfazed and booted him to the side. I was off balance as he charged at me again.
Pittman came out of nowhere and rammed Tikel, putting any NFL linesmen to shame. The two collided against the back of the bus.
Tikel grabbed Pittman by the neck and slammed his head just above the wheel well. Pittman went limp and slid down the side of the bus to the ground.
The massive scab turned and snarled at me as he prepared to throw the bladed end of the chain. I scrambled to reload my weapon, but I knew it was too late. He swung his arm in an arc, releasing the metal shard.
“No!” Dobson yelled, knocking me to the side. I hit the ground as Dobson took the shard of steel under his arm. It dug deep into his ribs, imbedded all the way to the chain. His face froze in shock as he crumbled to his knees.
With a satisfied shriek, Tikel yanked on the chain. Dobson spun and the jagged blade ripped out, taking bone and flesh with it. The Major collapsed to the ground, unmoving.
I jumped to my feet, reloading my AR15 as I did so. Boomer came to my side, growling and huffing protectively at the massive scab.
“Hey fuck-face!” a voice roared from behind the Ogre.
Tikel spun around just as Fish squeezed the trigger of a semi-automatic shotgun. The first slug ripped off Tikel’s ear and part of his cheek. Blood exploded in cadence with repeated fire as Fish continued to shoot the street sweeper.
A second round split the Ogre’s elbow as he dodged behind the bus for cover and right into my line of fire. Fish sprinted around the bus as I started my assault, slowly walking toward the fleeing giant.
Tikel stumbled, taking numerous rounds in his side from my AR15. He ran toward Big Red and the bridge. His left arm hung limply, the forearm attached only by a few tendons and strands of muscle.
“You okay kid?” Fish asked quickly as he came up next to me and fired another round.
I nodded as I reloaded.
Fish fired again, but missed.
The two of us, along with Boomer, picked up the pace and chased after the monster.
DJ was waiting for Tikel. He had exited Big Red and was standing on top of the fire engine, aiming his AK47 at the beast.
Tikel howled as he jogged toward DJ.
The AK47 spewed smoke from its suppressor as DJ unloaded on Tikel.
Tikel stumbled to the ground. Fish and I raced toward him, weapons raised.
Preacher appeared from the passenger door, pointing toward the woods and shouting.
DJ turned and ducked in time to avoid a spear flying through the air. He changed his aim and began firing at the attacking scab who emerged screeching from the woodline.
Tikel was on his feet again, racing toward where Big Red had pushed the trailer down the embankment and into the canal. Blood streaked down the Ogre’s body from the wounds we had inflicted.
Fish tried to run and shoot the shotgun. His aim was off, and he missed twice as we ran as fast as we could.
I came to a stop and took a second to catch my breath. I turned at the sound of gunfire and saw Campbell and Karina shooting into the woods at unseen threats. Coleman had reloaded and joined in with the Stryker, launching the massive 50-caliber rounds at the trees.
The bodies of our friends lay around the vehicles, broken and savaged by Tikel. A wail echoed around me and scabs screamed back in response. Smoke from the burning woods covered the road.
I spun back around and screamed, “Fish, stop!! We have to help them!”
“Go back!” he yelled and sped up, leaving me behind.
Figures were moving away from us through the thick woods. Campbell and the Stryker were still shooting, both to convince the scabs that running was still in their best interest and trying to kill as many as possible.
Doctor Tripp was moving among our fallen, checking for signs of life.
I heard Fish fire the shotgun again and decided he needed my help more. Boomer and I raced toward the embankment where DJ had joined Fish in firing at the smoldering trailer which was partially submerged in the canal. I couldn’t see him, but I assumed this was where Tikel had gone.
“I’ll go around,” DJ bellowed and flanked the opposite side of the trailer. His weapon discharged and I heard Tikel scream in rage as I trotted up next to Fish.
The giant scab charged back around the trailer and toward us. Boomer hunched down, preparing to pounce on the beast.
Fish and I didn’t give the canine a chance and began to fire.
Fish only had two slugs left and tossed the shotgun to the side after only hitting Tikel once. I shot half my magazine as Fish recovered his .45.
Tikel was hurt and moving slowly, but he wasn’t down yet. He changed directions and stumbled to the underside of the bridge that crossed the canal.
My rounds hit him repeatedly in the back and he stumbled to the ground as DJ came around the trailer and shot him a few more times with his AK47.
I heard a small, metallic twang next to me.
“Grenade!” Fish yelled.
I looked down and the handle of the fragmentation grenade had already been released. Since World War 1, no one could put a precise time on how long it took for a grenade to explode after the safety lever had been detached. The closest estimate was four to five seconds. My overworked mind had not been keeping track and I dove to the ground, dragging Boomer with me. DJ ducked behind the bus.
Tikel was twenty yards away when Fish hurled the baseball sized metal ball in front of him and ducked down next to me.
Fish’s timing was excellent. The grenade exploded before it hit the ground, ten feet in front of Tikel.
I buried my head in the grass as the air vibrated with the sonic boom.
The idea that grenades threw people dozens of feet was only in Hollywood. You would be thrown back, but rarely over a few feet. Mostly, the grenade would just launch fragments into your body while the concussion would shatter bones and liquefy organs.
Fish and I popped up at the same time.
Tikel had been knocked back and rolled down the embankment, halfway into the water. The few threads of flesh that kept his arm connected had been severed. The appendage lay near where the grenade had detonated. His body was blackened by the grenade.
“Let’s finish this fucker off,” Fish growled as he stood.
; Just then, Tikel moved. His only remaining arm reached into the water and pulled. Slowly, the body dragged itself into the canal.
“What in the unholy shit!” Fish roared as he took off in a run toward the canal. I joined him as Tikel began to float down the waterway.
DJ came up beside us and the three of us began to unleash the rest of our ammo into the carcass until it floated past the bridge.
“Did I see him drag himself into the water or am I going nuts?” DJ asked as he reloaded.
“I think we’re all going nuts,” Fish grumbled as we jogged back up the embankment. He pointed over to Tikel’s amputated arm. “Kid, grab that and bring it with us.”
“Why?” I asked while I bent down and picked up the severed arm.
“Because I can get infected and you can’t, dumbass,” he retorted.
“No, I mean why are we taking it?”
He sighed as DJ split off to Big Red and we returned to the carnage that surrounded Jenna’s wrecked truck and the CDC bus.
“That damn scab took more beating than every scab we’ve fought combined. I want to know why.”
I nodded, somewhat understanding. I grabbed a small tarp off the ground, wrapped the arm in it, and put it in my pack.
Fish moved to check on Dobson. Doctor Tripp was kneeling next to the Major. A large pool of blood spread around his lifeless body. The doctor closed her eyes, fighting back tears. Her hand rested on his face. The two, along with Pittman, had traveled together for months, enduring extreme hardships and building a bond much like the one I had with Fish. Now he was dead.
“Dammit,” Fish cursed.
I turned and saw Daniel shaking uncontrollably on the ground. Purple bruising covered from his left ear to his shoulder and there was a stomach-turning indent on his neck. Karina stood over him, her face pale. Boomer and I ran to them. I nudged her gently away towards Jenna who was mumbling something I couldn’t understand. She went willingly, unable to look at Daniel any longer.
“His neck is broke,” Fish grunted over my shoulder. “And his trachea is crushed.”
I looked up at Fish. He slowly shook his head.
Preacher was helping Coleman tend to Sheriff Green.
The Hunt Chronicles (Volume 3): Crusade Page 28
